"Walter Jon Williams - Prayers on the Wind" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williams Walter John)

"We will deal with that at the Picnic Festival," said the Incarnation.


From his position by the lake, Jigme could see tents and banners dotting the lower slopes of Tingsum
like bright spring flowers. The Picnic Festival lasted a week, and unlike most of the other holidays had no
real religious connection. It was a week-long campout during which almost the entire population of the
Diamond City and the surrounding monasteries moved into the open and spent their time making merry.
Jigme could see the giant yellow hovertent of the Gyalpo Rinpoche surrounded by saffron-robed guards,
the guards present not to protect the Treasured King from attackers, but rather to preserve his tranquillity
against invasions by devout pilgrims in search of a blessing. The guards -- monks armed with staves, their
shoulders padded hugely to make them look more formidable -- served the additional purpose of
keeping the Sang away from the Treasured King until the conclusion of the festival, something for which
Jigme was devoutly grateful. He didn't want any political confrontations disturbing the joy of the holiday.
Fortunately Ambassador !urq seemed content to wait until her scheduled appearance at a party given by
the Incarnation on the final afternoon.
Children splashed barefoot in the shallows of the lake, and others played chibi on the sward beside,
trying to keep a shuttlecock aloft using the feet alone. Jigme found himself watching a redheaded boy on
the verge of adolescence, admiring the boy's grace, the way the knobbed spine and sharp shoulders
moved under his pale skin. His bony ankles hadn't missed the shuttlecock yet. Jigme was sufficiently lost
in his reverie that he did not hear the sound of boots on the grass beside him. "Jigme Dzasa?"
Jigme looked up with a guilty start. !urq stood beside him, wearing hardy outdoor clothing. Her legs
were wrapped up to the shoulder. Jigme stood hastily and bowed.
"Your pardon, Ambassador. I didn't hear you."
The Sang's feathery antennae waved cheerfully in the breeze. "I thought I would lead a party up
Tingsum. Would you care to join us?"
What Jigme wanted to do was continue watching the ball game, but he assented with a smile.
Climbing mountains: that was the sort of thing the Sang were always up to. They wanted to demonstrate
they could conquer anything.
"Perhaps you should find a pony," !urq said. "Then you could keep up with us."
 Jigme took a pony from the Library's corral and followed the waffle patterns of !urq's boots into the
trees on the lower slopes. Three other Sang were along on the expedition; they clicked and gobbled to
one another as they trotted cheerfully along. Behind toiled three Maskers-of-burden carrying food and
climbing equipment. If the Sang noticed the incongruity demonstrated by the human's using a quadruped
as a beast of burden while they, centauroids, used a bipedal race as servants, they politely refrained from
mentioning it. The pony's genetically altered cloven forefeet took the mountain trail easily, nimbler than the
Sang in their heavy boots. Jigme noticed that this made the Sang work harder, trying to outdo the dumb
beast.
They came to a high mountain meadow and paused, looking down at the huge field of tents that ringed
the smooth violet lake. In the middle of the meadow was a three-meter tower of crystal, weathered and
yellow, ringed by rubble flaked off during the hard winters. One of the Sang trotted over to examine it.
"I thought the crystal was instructed to stay well below the surface," he said.
"There must have been a house here once," Jigme said. "The crystal would have been instructed to
grow up through the surface to provide Library access."
!urq trotted across a stretch of grass, her head down. "Here's the beginning of the foundation line,"
she said. She gestured with an arm. "It runs from here to over there."
The Sang cantered over the ground, frisky as children, to discover the remnants of the foundation.
The Sang were always keen, Jigme found, on discovering things. They had not yet learned that there was
only one thing worth discovering, and it had nothing to do with old ruins.
!urq examined the pillar of crystal, touched its crumbling surface. "And over eighty percent of the
planet is composed of this?" she said.